


Project Name: Aconitum

by MarsUltor



Category: PNA
Genre: Supernatural Elements
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-24
Updated: 2014-06-24
Packaged: 2018-02-06 02:33:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1841113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsUltor/pseuds/MarsUltor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Secret Organisation hunts supernatural creatures. No discrimination. Everyone dies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Project Name: Aconitum

Why is it that I’m always the one that gets chased. It’s never Gretel or Nick. It’s like they see me and think “Hey! Chew toy!”. God damn lycans, or to be more exact, feral lycans. Killing them is like trying to kill a Great Dane on steroids, with deep seated anger issues, that has rabies, and whose favourite chew toy has just been stolen. 

“Fast fucker.” I gasp, as I run through the woods. Heavy smoke clings to the ground and lowers my visibility. I’m not really sure where, somewhere in Canada probably, because it’s so damn empty. The lycan is gaining on me and he knows it, because he starts baying. “Yeah yeah, keep laughing you drooling sonofabitch” I think to myself. I jump a gap over a small creek, slipping on the opposite edge and falling into the frigid water. Shit. I come up for air and look behind me, and I can hear it getting closer. He’s almost caught up with me. I reach behind my back and unsheathe my two karambit’s. The water is at my stomach, about five feet deep. Not the best place to finish this, but I don’t have the time to be picky.

I bring my two blades up in a defensive stance just as the lycan jumps across. He must think I made it across. Everything seems to slow down as I make a horizontal leap, sweeping my blades overhead with the hopes of disemboweling him At the last second he must have heard the sound of my blades cutting the air because he twists in a spiral and I slice it’s back instead. The lycan smacks into the opposite side of the gap like me and falls in. Great, a 230lb, almost five foot tall- when on all fours- rabid dog, in water. He doesn’t immediately surface so I scan the surface for signs of movement or bubbles. It’s dark and dirty and the fact that its 12am isn’t helping either. Only light I’m getting is from the full moon.  
I see a bubble surface and pop to my immediate left, and I bring my blades up to attack. Then the water to my right explodes and the lycan bursts out of the water and latches onto my left shoulder, bringing me under the water. He starts tearing at my side with his claws, trying to get through my thick leather jacket, and starts jerking his head, tearing through the jacket and into my shoulder. Teeth rip through my flesh and I drop one of my karambit’s. I bring my other one up and start stabbing at his stomach, trying to get him to let go, but his jaw is like a steel vise. He starts to go into a death roll like a crocodile, and I’m running out of air. I’ve got to end this quick, or else I’m kibble for old Cujo here. I tighten the muscles of my left shoulder so that he digs in harder, and then I reach around with my right arm and stab him in the back of his neck and twist, severing his spine and cutting through the nerves. His jaw jerks shut, and his limbs start to twitch. He’s dead but I’m not done yet, I’ve got to get some air. I yank my blade out of his neck, then I shove my blade in between his teeth and I twist it, prying open his mouth. I quickly pull my shoulder free and I stand up from the floor of the creek gasping for air. No time to celebrate yet, I think to myself. I grab the “dead” lycan by the scruff of his neck and pull him to the edge of the creek, gritting my teeth as I pull him up and out of the water.  
I take a second to catch my breath before I set to work. I put my forearm to his neck, then I reverse grip my karambit and I slice open his stomach. There’s no way I cut get through his ribcage in time. I stick my arm, blade in hand, into his stomach and up behind his ribs, looking for his heart, and once I find it, I start to slice at arteries. He starts to jerk and claw at me all and I push down harder on his windpipe. I let go of my blade and grab his heart and I yank down. I feel some resistance, but it’s over. He’s stopped moving and I’m holding a blue heart the size of a grapefruit in my hand. I drop it into the dirt, while I pull out my satellite phone from my inner jacket pocket and I press talk, and it immediately answers. “It’s done, I need a clean up crew. I’m bleeding, but no worries, take your time.” I hang up the phone and I lay down and wait. I hope they don’t take too long…


End file.
